


With Every Single Word

by Jaelijn



Series: A Heart to Hold [7]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, Asexual Avon, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers, for the entire show, for the most part anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 17,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8545888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaelijn/pseuds/Jaelijn
Summary: Little snippets of life and conversations between Vila and Avon.





	1. things you said through your teeth

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to gather all these little ficlets into one story, as many of them are just a little short for individual stories, and they are all based on [this "Things you said"](http://collarsbones.tumblr.com/post/110395333021/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a) prompt list off tumblr. There might be warnings that are applicable to single chapters only, which I will add in the chapter notes - but all of these little snippets are self-contained, so feel free to skip any. Overall I have managed to keep them comparatively light, though. 
> 
> Yes, these are very firmly set in my ace!Avon universe! Almost all are also established relationship, though these aren't all Series 2 as the previous ones have been. I am still writing on these as I will slowly upload them, but already I have a few set in S3, and one PGP. There are some slight reference to the other stories and their headcanons, but again if you have never read a single one of the series you should still be perfectly fine.
> 
> The title, as always, comes from Poets of the Fall lyrics.
> 
> I have no set update schedule since I never seem to be able to stick to those, but I have a good few written already, so I'm hoping to post new chapters at least slightly regularly. The first two are both quite short, so I'll post the second one first _and_ you get two right away. Enjoy!

“I’m _fine_ ,” Avon ground out between his teeth, moving away from Vila’s probing hands – only to freeze with a chocked gasp of pain.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Vila said dryly. “Look, you’re making it worse. Can you sit back down?”

Avon eased back down on the medical bed, not objecting when Vila caught him by the arm to lower him down gently.

“What did you do, anyway?”

“I was – ah!” Avon arched his back when Vila pressed down near his spine. His breath caught, and Vila could see his knuckles whitening where he was clasping the edge of the bed.

“Stay still.”

“It _hurts_ ,” Avon ground out, “and your hands are freezing.”

Vila rubbed his hands briefly, finding them no colder than usual, but then the _Liberator_ was always a bit chilly and Avon was sensitive to the cold. “I’ll better get you a painkiller – and a heating gel, while I’m at it. The machine says there’s nothing seriously wrong, and you should keep moving normally. Perhaps don’t crawl under consoles.”

Avon sighed, a little of the tension leaving his shoulders as Vila carefully applied the painkiller pad to his lower back. “Tell Blake that. It was _his_ raid that damaged the water distribution on top of everything else.”

“That essential?”

“It is if you want a shower, but then you only bathe once a month, don’t you?”

Vila let the remark pass without challenge, reaching around for the self-heating oil instead. Avon was just taking out the backache on him. He knew better than most people just how often Vila showered.

“Drinks need water too, Vila.” Avon still sounded like he was talking through his teeth. “It’s not classed as essential system by the _Liberator_ , and the auto-repair won’t get to it until it has fixed the shields and engines and weaponry system and whatever else might be broken. We’ll need the water to survive that long, provided those pursuit ships don’t catch up before that.”

Vila poured some of the oil onto his palms, rubbing them together. The oil was already heating up. “The heat should help ease your muscles a little, anyway. You might want to wear a disposable shirt over it; it stains.” He carefully reached out for Avon’s back again, gently circling in towards his spine.

This time, Avon didn’t twitch away.   


	2. things you said at 1am

“Avon, would you go to _sleep_?”

In the darkness, through half-slitted eyes, Vila saw Avon’s mouth twist into a brief smile. “Am I bothering you, Vila?”

Vila sighed, nestling more comfortably into the crook of Avon’s neck. Usually, it was Avon who liked to curl up on him, simply because Avon liked sleeping on his side and Vila wasn’t fussy. But Avon had wanted to _stay awake a little longer and think_ – that, at least, was what he’d said three hours ago. When they’d fallen into bed after running around on a planet and getting drenched for Blake all afternoon.

“There’s something wrong with your definition of ‘a little’,” Vila mumbled.

Avon shifted and sighed, his thumb rubbing lightly over Vila’s shoulder. His eyes glittered in the dim light. “I’m glad you’re here, Vila.”

Vila didn’t know what to respond to that.


	3. things you said too quietly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technical faults on the _Liberator_ can be... well. Slightly aggravating, let's say? ;)

“What was that?”

Vila peered past Avon’s legs – the only part of him still sticking out of the maintenance shaft – trying to catch a glimpse of the rest of him. Avon had said _something_ , but it’d been far too muffled by the layers of metal for Vila to hear.

“Avon?”

Avon shifted, turning onto his back and sliding out of the tunnel slightly. Vila still couldn’t see his face, but at least he could now spot Avon’s dark hair. “Never mind. Pass me the laser probe?”

To everyone else, Avon’s voice might have sounded normal – cold and clipped and to the point – but Vila knew his Avons better than that. He also knew better than to push. He picked the probe off the tray and reached into the maintenance chute so Avon could clasp it. Avon’s fingers closed around it, briefly brushing Vila’s.

“Thanks.” And with that, he’d already scooted back to continue working on the circuit he was trying to fix.

Vila crouched by the opening, tired and bored. Avon hadn’t really asked for his help, but he couldn’t take all his tools with him into the cramped space, and the heating unit needed readjusting if they wanted to get out of the thermal suits anytime soon. Zen hadn’t been able to tell them why the auto-repair couldn’t fix the fault on its own – hadn’t even warned them that there _was_ a fault, only they had still woken up in the morning to a freezing cold _Liberator_. Only the insulation had kept the temperature from dropping to immediately life-threatening – so far –, but they had still all decided that putting on the thermal suits was a good idea. By now, they were a necessity, and still the suits did nothing about the fact that Vila’s nose felt like it was about to turn into an icicle.

A muffled curse from Avon pulled Vila out of his thoughts.

“All right, Avon?”

There was a dull bang, as though Avon had slammed his hand into the wall – knowing Avon, he might have – and Avon scooted out of the tunnel, looking… not only dissatisfied, but downright unhappy. He threw the tools down on the tray with unnecessary force, tucking his hands under his arms, and leant back against the nearest bulkhead. Tilting his head back, he threw a glance Vila’s way. “There is _no point_.” He’d spoken through his teeth – to keep them from chattering, Vila was sure. Avon hadn’t been able to wear gloves, not if he wanted to work with the _Liberator_ ’s delicate circuits, and the cold was clearly getting to him.

“Eh?”

“If there is a technical fault, _I_ can’t see it.” Avon shuddered. “ _Damn_ , it’s cold.”

“What were you doing with the probes, then?” Avon had been at it for _hours_ , as Vila well knew. He’d been sitting beside him all the time, after all.

The corner of Avon’s mouth quirked into a bitter smile. “Disconnecting and reconnecting it.”

“You turned it off and on again?” If it hadn’t been this freezing, it would have been funny.

“Well, it didn’t work. I’ve always thought Blake was going to get us killed; I didn’t expect it to be by freezing in deep space.”

And in deep space they were – if the temperature kept dropping at the speed it had been so far, they wouldn’t reach any inhabitable planet before they’d be frozen solid even _with_ the thermal suits.

Avon reached over to pick up his discarded gloves, slipping them over stiff fingers, and pushed himself laboriously to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

“To try Zen again. Coming?”

Vila nodded and trailed Avon to the flight deck.

 

Zen’s response remained the same – there was no detectable fault, no explanation for why the temperature was rapidly falling below the liveable.

Avon’s eyes were blazing with anger, and if Vila hadn’t also seen the weary slump in his shoulders, he might have given him a wide berth. The others had built something of a nest in one of the smaller rooms deep in the bowels of the ship – one they might heat with their body heat for a little while longer, to conserve the power on the thermals. To keep alive a little longer.

“What now, Avon?”

Avon sagged against his console. “Now we die.”

“What? I can’t do that!”

Avon practically snorted. “I’ve tried everything I could. You can go and join Blake and the rest in his little nook and prolong the inevitable for a little longer. I would suggest burning the store of clothes for warmth, but the _Liberator_ ’s fire suppressant systems are working just fine.”

“Can’t you disconnect those?”

“To what end? It still won’t get us anywhere near an inhabitable planet.”

Fear surged up into Vila’s throat, cutting off his air for a moment. He swallowed hard. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You said I could go and join the others. What about you?”

“I don’t intend to sit around and watch one after the other die. It’ll just –”

“– remind you that you might be next?”

Avon looked up, meeting his glance. “Yes.”

Vila moved to his side silently, unsurprised that when he bumped his shoulder against Avon’s, Avon leant in, resting some of his weight against Vila. For a while, they just breathed the increasingly frigid air together in silence.

Then, Vila remembered something. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Back in the maintenance shaft, when I didn’t hear you.”

“It wasn’t important, Vila.”

“You can tell me now, if we’re going to die!”

Avon exhaled sharply, not quite a sigh. “I said, _I wish Blake hadn’t woken us up_.”

Blake had contacted them from the flight deck when the drop in temperature had become noticeable – they had been in Avon’s bed, warm amongst Avon’s assortment of pillows and blankets. Vila didn’t think he could remembered how being truly warm felt now.

Avon started rubbing his hands through his gloves. “I’m tired, Vila,” he said, quietly.

“We could go back to bed. Better than stand here and do nothing. Better than watch the others…”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell them? That you can’t fix it?”

“It might be kinder not to, don’t you think?”

Vila nodded, the knot back in his throat. He reached out for Avon’s hand, annoyed at the thick fabric of the thermal suit gloves between them. Avon still threaded his fingers through Vila’s, and they turned towards the exit to the rooms.

Avon had just set foot on the first step when Zen suddenly came to life, and with his usual calm announced: “Heating unit back online.”

Avon’s hand tightened suddenly, almost painfully, on Vila’s. He didn’t turn around, frozen – figuratively, and very nearly literally – in spot. “ _What the hell_?!”


	4. things you said over the phone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Over the teleport bracelet, anyway.

“Vila, are you awake?”

“Why do you keep asking that? You know I am,” Vila shot back, somewhat testily. Blake had woken him up just to monitor the teleport, and now he was sitting on the cramped bench and having to listen to Avon needle him. Thank Blake ever so much.

“Sorry,” Avon said, sounding more amused than sorry. But still, he’d said it.

Vila sat up. “What's going on?”

“Blake’s contact didn’t trust me.”

“Do you blame him?”

“No, actually.” There was a rustling sound, as if Avon had moved the bracelet, or his arm. “Blake insisted on going with him anyway, so he took Cally and Jenna.”

“And he didn’t insist on your behalf? What a shame.”

“Vila…”

“Do you want to come up?”

“No. _Someone_ needs to make sure they come back in one piece.”

Vila settled back against the cushions, putting two and two together. His smirk was wasted on the empty room, but knowing Avon, he’d hear it in Vila’s voice anyway. “You’re bored, aren’t you. That’s why you’re bugging me.”

“I was making sure you were ready to bring us up quickly if we need it.”

“Of course you were.”

Avon was silent for a long time – long enough that Vila was about to open his mouth to ask if he was still there, when Avon said, wistfully: “You should be down here, Vila. You’d like it.”

“Eh?”

“This planet has one of the highest living standards in the galaxy, Vila. The housing prices are exorbitant, and there is a… ah, very lively nightlife. You wouldn’t know what to do with all this luxury.”

It sounded like paradise. “Wouldn’t I?”

“You wouldn’t even know what do with the limited luxury available to you on the _Liberator_ , _if_ you chose to make use of it.”

“Yeh? At least there’s space on my bed to sleep. I’d be drowning in ‘luxurious’ blankets and pillows on yours!”

“I see.” Avon’s voice was suddenly too icy. “Then you won’t have any objections to sleeping in your room tonight.”

“Avon, I didn’t mean that! Come on, you _know_ I didn’t mean it like that.”

A low sound penetrated Vila’s anxiety.

Avon, the _bastard_ , was chuckling.

“Relax, Vila. I didn’t say I wouldn’t join you there.”  


	5. things you didn't say at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is PGP, so there is past MCD, but not Avon or Vila. I was so scared of turning this heartbreaking that I might have slipped into the other extreme, but this one is one of my favourites for this prompt series now.  
> I have several theories for how PGP for my ace!Avon series looks like, and I haven't decided which of my PGP WIPs it is going to be. But this ficlet fits with the one that is currently the likeliest candidate. 
> 
> Also, comments on every chapter are very welcome, if you feel so inclined - no need to wait until I'm done! :) Enjoy!

Avon was watching, hidden away in a shadowed corner of the room where he could lean against the wall and take some pressure off his aching back. He couldn’t stand for long periods at the time anymore, though he preferred not to advertise that fact. Vila watched his face from across the room, wondering what it was Avon was thinking, was seeing, as Dayna was getting ready to swear her trust and love to her partner.

Dayna still looked as beautiful as ever – no longer young, perhaps, but radiant once more, glowing with happiness and surrounded by friends. The rebellion, as it were – the ones that had been able to come, the ones that knew Dayna – and the ones her partner had brought along. Vila had spoken to most of them, of course. Now that the very last members of the first Freedom Party were long dead, Blake’s original crew on the _Liberator_ had attained a legendary status. Vila had once thought he might enjoy being a legend – but Avon was right, it wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth the constant attention, the scrutiny, the questions, the pressure to never, ever make a mistake, or be tired or sad or drunk.

Vila looked down at his drink – the one he’d been nursing all night. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been even so much as nicely boozed. Not that he necessarily missed it, but sometimes he still wished for the anonymity of his youth, when he was just a Delta thief. And he was the one between the two of them who enjoyed telling stories!

His eyes strayed back to Avon – still staring at the happy couple. His eyes were in shadow, but Vila could read the lines of Avon’s mouth just as well – he might not be smiling, but Avon rarely smiled in public these days. This was a relaxed, even fond expression. Vila had worried that he wouldn’t come, wouldn’t want to expose himself to the public eye, but hadn’t dared to ask Avon to come along for Dayna’s sake. But then Dayna had invited him, late one night, and Avon had said yes, just like that. Sometimes, Vila wondered if even after all of these years, he really understood Avon at all.

Vila watched as Del Grant made his way over to Avon, bringing along two chairs. Grant was almost as good at reading Avon as Vila – one chair would have been an insult. With two, Avon could feel sitting down wasn’t admitting defeat. Avon had a drink, too, Vila noted – a half-empty glass of something non-alcoholic, cradled in two hands to conceal their shaking. Avon didn’t drink alcohol at all anymore – too dangerous with the medication he was taking. The two men settled down and exchanged a few words of quiet conversation, out of sync with the party-like atmosphere around them, just as Vila felt out of step where he was sitting, in the sofa across the room.

Briefly, Vila was distracted by an old acquaintance – everyone getting their greetings in before the official part of the ceremony. When he was left alone again, the happy couple was just getting ready for the formal exchange of vows. Glancing over to Avon, Vila found that Grant had left, leaving Avon once more by himself. He was looking down at the glass in his hands, now. Unlike with Vila, people were always hesitant to approach Avon – particularly when he wasn’t mingling with the crowd. A silent shadow, a legend that nobody dared approach for the fear of causing insult. Seeing Avon toy with the ring on his finger, Vila pushed himself to his feet, and with a detour past the buffet, found himself standing in Avon’s little corner.

Avon acknowledged him with a glance that Vila took as permission to sit down on the chair Grant had vacated. He balanced the plate with fruit and cheese nibbles he’d brought on his knee, and looked back to the radiating Dayna. They had a good view from this spot, even as they were hidden away from the main throng of guests.

Avon sighed, setting his now empty glass down on the floor by the chair’s leg, and leant back. Pain flickered over his expression, there and gone in the blink of an eye – all Avon allowed to show, at least in public.

Vila waved a hand vaguely at the plate he’d brought. “Help yourself.”

Avon nodded his thanks, his eyes caught by the ceremony unfolding before them. Dayna, brilliant and clever Dayna, beaming so brightly she might have competed with the decorative candles, taking the hand of the person she loved. Dayna’s voice, as clear and strong as it had always been, cleansed from the grief and hatred that had tainted it back in the day, rising above the hushed din of her guests to recite the vows she had chosen.

“My love, you are the centre of my universe. You are the one person with whom I can be all that I am. I promise to be honest with you and to trust you.”

Dayna paused, and Vila glanced over at Avon. _Trust_ wasn’t a word anyone dared bring up in Avon’s company anymore – but Avon caught his eye and gave him a thin-lipped smile. He placed his hand palm up on his knee, the ring catching the candlelight – an invitation. Vila reached over.

“I promise to smile and laugh with you and grow and bend with you. I promise to listen to you, to respect you and support you. I promise to cherish every day we share together. I promise to do this through whatever life throws at us. I promise to love you, until the end of my days.”

Dayna’s voice rang out beautifully into the silence, her partner’s voice rising in the responding vow a moment later.

Avon gave Vila’s hand a little squeeze, their rings clinking together.     


	6. things you said under the stars and in the grass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not letting the Avon-is-from-Io headcanon go anytime soon, sorry. :P

It was Vila’s idea, of course. Avon might have had more travel experience than Vila had ever had – before Cygnus Alpha and the _London_ and the _Liberator_ – but he had rarely been Outside. Io, where he had spent most of his youth, was singularly hostile outside the floating domes – or had been, before they’d terraformed it – and Avon had never shown the fascination with Outside that had spurred Vila when he was the same age, living in the squalor of the Delta sections. At least, that was what Avon told him. Vila knew better than to turn that into a point of teasing between them – compared to Avon’s ultimate rebellion against the Federation’s restriction, Vila sneaking out of the dome as a youngster was laughable.

Blake was another matter entirely – he had wholeheartedly agreed with Vila’s suggestion, possibly not even seeing the expression of distaste that had flittered over Avon’s face. And if Vila had caught Avon checking with Orac on the likelihood of _nature_ on this planet getting them killed overnight, he wasn’t going to mention that to anyone.

Unsurprisingly, while the rest of them gathered around the campfire, and Vila delighted in showing off some of his sleights of hand, Avon looked for solitude. They had shared their meal, and then Avon had stood, brushed of imaginary specks of dirt, and had walked off. Blake had called after him, telling him not to go too far – and Vila knew Avon hadn’t. He wasn’t comfortable with the untamed wildness; he wouldn’t move out of shouting range.

Finishing his little magic show with a flourish, to the particular delight of Jenna, whom he gifted with a synthetic flower, Vila excused himself from the circle and went to find Avon. It wasn’t easy to hide in the smooth rolling hills with their short grass over warm soil, but then Avon didn’t even seem to have tried very hard. He was sitting on the far side of the hill just by their camp, looking out into the dim indigo of the planet’s night.

“Avon?”

Avon twisted around. “What is it?”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Did your audience tire of your games?”

It was as good an invitation as any and Vila settled down beside Avon, lying back so he could look up at the brilliant night sky. Even with the domes to contain the light pollution, the sky on Earth had never been this clear. “This is nice.”

“Is it?” Avon asked, distractedly.

“Just look at the stars!”

Avon leant back, reluctantly supporting himself with his hand. “Yes. I suppose you would be impressed.”

“You don’t fool me, Avon.”

“Without even trying.”

“Yeh. Keep telling yourself that.” Vila reached out, placing his own palm on Avon’s hand. “Lie back? The ground is warm and dry.”

A brief shudder ran through Avon, and he withdrew his hand. “Must I?”

“You’ll get a crick in your neck if you keep looking up like that.”

Reluctantly, Avon shrugged off his jacket – the temperatures on this planet were nice and moderate even in the dark, or else Vila would never have suggested staying the night – rolled it to a makeshift pillow and lay down stiffly by Vila’s side.

Vila watched the endless starscape reflect in Avon’s eyes for a moment in silence, then pushed his fingers between Avon’s. He found no resistance, and when Vila lay back himself, some of Avon’s tension was gone.

“I used to do this as a child when the nights were clear,” Vila mused.

“So you said.”

“Makes you feel small, doesn’t it? All those things out there.”

“Vila, we’ve been all over the galaxy.”

“ _Now_ we have. Never thought I would see space when I was a child.”

Avon was silent for a long while. Then, his voice so low Vila barely heard it: “The observatory on Io was similar to this.”

“Observatory?”

“Yes. The Io colony was established primarily as a research base, and there was a section dedicated to astronomy. The observatory was capable of simulating any starscape.”

“Bet they didn’t like children.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Vila saw Avon smirking. “I never let them know I was there.” Avon shifted, curling his body every-so-slightly towards Vila. “There was a crawlspace and a ledge above the projector only a child could reach. I used to go there and observe – and later, when I learned to work on the computers, I would go there at night and run my own programmes. Of course it was all a simulation – there was no Outside on Io – but there weren’t any poor weather conditions, no light pollution – just the stars.”

“Just like here?”

“A good deal more clinical.” Avon tightened his hold on Vila’s hand. “And a lot lonelier.”


	7. things you said while we were driving

“Avon, neither of us is a pilot!”

Avon grimaced, clearly trying to make sense of the foreign flight controls. “Do you have a better idea?”

“Let’s just sit tight. Blake is going to come back for a flyby any minute now, and I’ve sealed the hatch!”

“Yes. And how will that stop them from blowing the entire launch platform sky high?”

Vila froze, clutching the console. “They wouldn’t!”

Avon bared his teeth. “Are you willing to bet both our lives on that?”

Vila fell back into the co-pilot chair, strapping himself in. Avon’s hands were dancing over the console, but still the ship wasn’t moving. “Avon!”

“You used to have more faith in my piloting abilities back when you barely knew me!” Avon hit a switch rather savagely, and the engine roared to life. “‘Fingers’, was it?”

“That was on the _Liberator_! Not on an experimental vessel!”

“Just an incomprehensibly alien one, then,” Avon said, smirking, and pulled the control stick back sharply.

The small shuttle jumped into the air with a jerk, rising rapidly amidst bumping and jolting. Vila clutched the armrests, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. If he was going to die, at least he wanted to see how it happened.

Avon was breathing heavily by his side. “Come on, come on…”

And still the ship was climbing.

“What if they shoot us down?!” Vila exclaimed suddenly, wishing the thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“If we can’t reach orbit, it’s hardly going to matter.”

Something exploded behind them, and the engine stuttered. Avon threw a glance over his shoulder. “Damn!”

“What happened?!”

“Short circuit. Vila, take over the control!” Avon unbuckled the seatbelt, sliding from the seat the moment Vila had reached over to clutch the steering column. Avon could barely stand upright on the trembling deck, hanging on to his chair for dear life.  

“What are you doing?!”

 “I need to bypass that connection, or we will go into a nosedive.” Avon gritted his teeth and let go of the chair, falling more than walking towards the rear of the deck, where the wiring was still smoking.

“Can you do it?”

“Vila, keep the steering column pulled back!”

“I am!” Vila turned back to face the console, wishing he could see what was going on behind him at the same time.

“Yes, I can do it. Let me just – there!”

The engine gave a roar, and Vila could feel the sheer power of it through the control – he was having one hell of a time just to keep it where it was. The view out the front screen was blurring – they were about to break through the atmosphere.

“Vila! Let go! Now!”

“What?!”

“Let go! We need to fall in Orbit, not shoot out into space!”

“We’re still inside the atmosphere!”

“Now, Vila! _Trust me_!”

Vila let go, the suddenness of it jolting him back into his seat – then, the darkness of space spread out before them, the noise of the launch abruptly giving way to utter silence.

Vila tentatively pulled his hands away from the control unit, fumbling with the buckle of his seatbelt. His hands were _shaking_. He turned, finding Avon crouching on the floor, a wide grin on his face.

“I feel sick,” Vila told him.

Avon’s smile only got broader, and he pushed himself to his feet, half-heartedly dusting off his clothes. “Not too bad for two amateur pilots, wouldn’t you say, Vila?” he said, giving Vila’s shoulder a playful pat.

“Can we just get out of here, _please_ , Avon?”

Avon’s grin faded to a smile, and he raised his bracelet to his lips. “ _Liberator_ , come in.”


	8. things you said when i was crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to skip a prompt because I'm not quite satisfied with the fic for the next one (i.e. I think I can do it better) but you've been waiting long enough, and that's why you get two in one go. XD
> 
> And here I am hitting you with the not-so-happy ones. Sorry. :P  
> Also in case this wasn't clear before now, the "I" in these prompts is generally Vila, the "you" Avon.

“Don’t, Vila.”

“But it’s not fair!”

Avon laughed, cold and bitter. “Fair! When was life ever fair?”

“You aren’t even going to argue, are you?”

 “And be allowed to stay by the graciousness of Blake’s bleeding heart? No, thank you.” He closed the box holding his few belongings.

“But there is enough space on the _Liberator_! You wouldn’t even have to see each other.”

“So I should hide away in computer control and let Bann have free rein on the flight deck? You don’t know me very well if you think I could stand by and watch.”

Vila clenched his fist, tears of frustration burning in his eyes. “You were here first!”

“Yes, and Blake is convinced Bann will lead him to Star One.”

“Avon–”

Avon straightened, placing his hand briefly on Vila’s shoulder. “Save you energy for keeping Blake alive past Star One, if you can.”

“I don’t like this, Avon! I don’t like _him_. What if it’s a trap?”

“Of course it’s a trap.”

“Then why are you leaving?!”

Avon turned away angrily and picked up the box, thrusting it sharply into Vila’s arms. “Do you imagine I have any desire to witness Blake’s descent into utter stupidity? I told him before that I would leave the next time – now, at least, there won’t be any arguments about it. From Blake, that is.”

Vila felt the tears spill over, unwilling to acknowledge them even so far as to wipe them away. “Just clueless old Vila, is it?”

“I never wanted any part in Blake’s revolution. Now I’m out. I would have liked to keep the ship, but perhaps after Star One you can return it to me.”

“I could come with you now.”

“No.”

“Why not? I don’t like Bann, and he certainly doesn’t like me, and I’m no use in fights.”

“Ah, so missing me has nothing to do with it?”

“This isn’t funny, Avon!”

Avon’s grin faded. “Blake will need someone with common sense on board.”

“And when has he ever listened to me?”

“Vila…” Avon paused. “You’re crying.” He reached out, brushing the tears off Vila’s cheek with his thumb. “Oh, Vila, what would you have me do?”

“Take me with you.”

“Blake–”

“Doesn’t need me. You do.”

Avon stiffened, dropping his hand. “I work better alone.”

“No, you don’t. You’ll need me to open the doors for your next bank raid.”

“I thought you liked Blake.”

“I don’t if he can switch any of us out just because some newcomer doesn’t like us.”

The comm panel on the wall chimed before Avon could answer. He moved past Vila, opening the channel. “Yes?”

“Avon.” It was Cally. “Bann attacked Jenna – I had to shoot him. We’re in the medical unit. I think he has a Federation tracking implant.”

Avon looked back at Vila, raising an eyebrow. “Well now.”

“Will you come to the medical unit? I can’t be certain it has deactivated.”

“Is Blake there?”

“I’m here, Avon,” Blake’s voice came, sounding slightly distant. “There is no need to say _I told you so_.”

“He did, though,” Vila put in, raising his voice just enough so it would be picked up by the comm channel.

Avon grinned. “All right,” he conceded graciously, smiling at Vila. “I’ll be right there.” He cut the connection, and turned fully towards Vila. “Well. This solves our little discussion quite nicely.”

“Yeh.” Vila put the box down, almost dizzy with relief. “Still, I would have gone with you.”

Avon briefly brushed his hand along Vila’s arm in thanks as they left the cabin together.


	9. things you said that made me feel like shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 4. I'm sorry.

“There is no point, Vila.”

Vila stilled, his hands coming to a halt in the small of Avon’s back. Dorian had excellent massage oil – from what Vila had seen of the man, he hadn’t been at all surprised – but Avon had a point. Today, all of Vila’s best skills weren’t doing anything to relax the tense muscles. “Give it a little longer,” Vila said anyway, resuming the gentle pattern of pressure and strokes.

Avon, however, pushed himself up on his elbows, dislodging him. “I didn’t mean the massage.”

Vila stared at the tense back, glistening faintly with oil. “What?”

Avon pulled his legs under him into a sitting position, and Vila was suddenly afraid of what he might find in his expression. A muscle jumped in Avon’s back as he inhaled. “You can stop trying to fix me.” Avon picked up his shirt from the floor, slipping it back over his head.

Vila watched his hands so he didn’t need to watch his face. “Avon–”

Avon shook his head sharply, and stood. “It’s far too late for that.”


	10. things you said when you were drunk

“Avon?”

“Oh, it’s you.”

“What are you doing?” Vila stepped further into the recreation room illuminated only by the desk light, where Avon was sitting nursing a glass of Vila’s own alcoholic mix. He’d never even seen Avon drink, let alone like this – alone and morosely.

“What does it look like?”

Vila got a glass for himself, not as intimidated of Avon as he might have been if Avon had looked less bedraggled. “Like you’re trying to get drunk.”

“And _you_ disapprove?”

“So you can point out how hypocritical that would be?” Vila pulled out a chair, settling down on the opposite site of the table.

Avon leant back, away from him. “Who invited you to stay?”

“It’s better to drink in company.”

“Not this kind of drinking.” Avon reached for his glass, taking a deep swallow and grimacing. He was enunciating with deliberate care – covering up a slight slur. “Not that this stuff deserves to be called drinkable.”

“I happen to think it’s quite good.”

“Your unsophisticated palate would.”

Vila smirked, not bothering to hide his delight at having goaded Avon into one of their verbal games. “Yeh? You’d waste perfectly nice wine on getting drunk, then?”

“I–” Avon broke off suddenly, scowling darkly. He had noticed what Vila was doing, then. “I’m not in the mood, Vila.”

“Being drunk doing any good?”

“Not particularly.”

“I can listen too, you know.”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t.”

“Well, I can.”

“No, Vila.”

“All right. I can also ramble on all night, and make sure you get another drink and a glass of water and back into your room without any of the others seeing you.”

Avon stared at him, his eyes heavy-lidded and strangely watery, unfocussed, before he directed them back towards the ceiling. “That I might believe.”

“Well then.” Vila settled back, swinging his legs up on the table, and launched into a long rambling narrative of one of his more daring thefts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be busy with RL stuff until about mid-January, so probably won't get around to updating until then. I'll try to leave another one for you for Christmas / Gauda Prime Day, but if I don't find the time, Happy Holidays and until the New Year!


	11. things you said after you kissed me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just uploading this little thing out of a need for light fluff. (Also I just realised it's more of a "after I kissed you" but never mind. XD)   
> There's obviously kissing in this.

“Well, now.”

Vila pulled a face. “That’s not a very clever response, is it? How about _That was a nice kiss, Vila_? Or _You’re a good kisser, Vila_? Or _Do it again, Vila_? Or even _Use some breathmint, Vila_?”

Avon’s eyes were dancing with mirth. “If _that_ were the case, I would have stopped you before you even got this close.”

Vila tilted his head. “Are you saying my breath smells nice?”

Avon looked down towards his hand resting on Vila’s chest. “I suppose I did.” He shifted his fingers, tangling them in Vila’s shirt, and caught his eyes again. “Now _are_ you going to kiss me again?”

“ _Well, now_ , I just might.”

They had to break up the kiss after a few seconds because Avon was wasting all his breath laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still working on this series, but have taken a bit of time out to work on a longer WIP for B7 (that's quite possibly also going to be Avon/Vila, let's be realistic). This means you have something long and plot-driven to look forward to, but also that there'll be a bit of a wait with few things in between. Hope it'll be worth it in the end!


	12. things you said when you thought i was asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little treat for all of you, since I finished another one of these the other day as a break from my PGP fic.  
> This is one of the painful S4 ones, I'm afraid.

Vila was awake as soon as the lock to his cabin door disengaged – mostly out of reflex. There was only one other person who could open that lock, and he was safe with Avon.  Accordingly, he just shifted a little, curling closer to the edge to inconspicuously make space on the bed, and continued to drift in a pleasant doze. The light from the hallway vanished after Avon had stepped into the room, which was basked, as always, in comfortably half-light.

“Vila?” Avon asked, very softly, and when Vila didn’t twitch, moved to the chair quietly. From the sound of it, he was shrugging off his jacket and pulling off his shoes.

It had to be the dead of night. Vila almost felt rested; if he’d only been sleeping for an hour or two, he’d be far groggier now. There was weariness in Avon’s movements, too, speaking of a long day. Whatever problem he’d been working on, it had either been so draining that the successful conclusion didn’t balance it out, or there hadn’t _been_ a success. Vila’s money was on the latter. It seemed to be a pattern with them, lately.

Avon, who hated sleeping with his back to the room, carefully settled his weight on the bed and moved over Vila, barely jostling him at all from nights and nights of practice where Vila would go to bed first because Avon was still working and Avon might join him eventually – or he might not find time to join him at all. Avon finally sank onto the mattress quite suddenly, as if all strength had left his limbs. He shifted to his side with a sigh, not even noticing that Vila accommodated him without conscious thought. A feather-light touch began gently stirring Vila’s hair. Vila would never understand what Avon found so tactilely fascinating about it – it was straight, mousy and rather too thin for his age, but running his hands through it was one of the most intimate gestures Avon allowed himself.

“Why are we doing this, Vila?” Avon’s voice came suddenly, sounding lost and sad in the dark.

Even if he hadn’t pretended to be sleeping, Vila wouldn’t have had an answer to that. He snuffled, butting his head against Avon’s caress. For a moment, Avon withdrew his hand, then, apparently convinced Vila was still asleep, continued the light petting.

“Cally would have had some words of wisdom for us, no doubt,” he said, in that same desolate tone.

Avon’s hand travelled down, settling for a moment on Vila’s shoulder, before he pulled it back, breaking all contact.

“I never claimed to be wise, Vila.”

Vila felt a sudden chill creeping up his spine and settle near his heart as if to stay.   


	13. things you said with too many miles between us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand back to S2. This is sometime after "Gestures" in the chronology of "A Heart to Hold".  
> Again, it isn't exactly fluff, but if you need something fluffy for counterbalance, go look at ["Softly Sweet"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8477104), which started out as "things you said at the kitchen table" and would technically have been next in the prompt sequence.

“ _Liberator_. _Liberator_ , come in. _Liberator_ , come in. Damn you, will you _come in_! Zen! _Respond!_ ”

Vila jerked from his dozing – it was the only thing that gave him respite from the stomach cramps these days, and Cally had shot Blake such an angry look when he’d criticised Vila for it that Blake had snapped his mouth shut and that was that. Vila didn’t want their compassion, didn’t really want them to even know how horrible he was feeling, but it was no use. Not with the pain even the soma couldn’t drown, or the pain it could, but feeling physically awful was better, at least, than dwelling on emotional pain.

When he’d met him in the holding cell on Earth, Vila hadn’t thought there would come a point where he would be missing _Avon_ this fiercely. Grieving, Cally said, was healthy. Well, Vila didn’t feel healthy, and Avon was gone.

He should have no right to invade Vila’s dreams with his voice.

“ _Liberator_! _Liberator_! Come in! Blake! Jenna, come in! Cally! Vila, will you answer me!”

Just wonderful, now Vila was hallucinating, too. Still, it was nice, hearing Avon say his name again.

“What the hell are you _doing_?! _Liberator_ , come in! Vila, if you have fallen asleep on watch and this is the _only_ reason you aren’t responding, I swear–”

It was rather fun, this hallucination. So very like Avon used to be, even if it sounded far away, broken up by interference. Vila uncurled from the padded seat to listen more closely, smiling softly.

“ _Zen_! This is Avon, _respond_! Zen, are you receiving me? Respond!”

Vila, despite himself, cast a glance towards the communication relay in front of Zen’s visual reference point, and found a blinking light – an incoming transmission. The hallucination wasn’t just auditory, then?

“ _Liberator_ , please come in. I don’t know how much longer I can… Can you even hear me?” Avon’s voice moved further away. “Frequency… fine…” And back. “ _Liberator_ , is there anybody there? Vila, please! Wake up, respond, damn you!”

Vila wandered over, tapping his finger on the indicator light. He could take the call, just to see what would happen. On the other hand, it was _so nice_ to listen to Avon’s voice, he didn’t really want to have the hallucination collapse under its confirmed unreality.

“Please. _Liberator_ , where are you? Are you receiving? Zen? Blake, if you have got them all killed because _I_ wasn’t there – if you’ve got _Vila_ killed…”

Avon sounded so sad, now. Vila didn’t want Avon to be sad, not even in his hallucinations. He opened a comm channel. “I’m all right, Avon.”

“VILA! Where _the hell_ were you!? I’ve been trying to call you for five minutes!”

Oh, that was nice. His own hallucination was getting mad at him for not responding? “I know,” Vila snapped at it, “You should be flattered I find your voice pleasing enough to even sit by and listen to you call the _Liberator_ again and again.”

There was a long silence, so long that Vila wondered whether the hallucination was gone – but the commlink was still receiving.

“Vila,” Avon said finally, “what happened? What’s wrong?”

Vila found hysterical laughter bubbling up in his throat. “You died.”

“What?” Silence again, just the ugly disturbance in the communication. “Vila… where is Blake?”

“Sleeping, probably. What’s it to you?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Vila…” Avon sounded so soft, so gentle now, so like the way he only did in the dead of night, when they were alone and together. “Vila, get Blake for me?”

“What good would that do?”

“Please, Vila? It’ll help, I promise.”

Vila didn’t really want to move away, but if that was the way the hallucination would end, at least it would end on something nice. “All right.”

“Thank you, Vila.”

Vila wandered down the corridors to Blake’s cabin, feeling foolish. Blake had been looking at him with understanding and pity for the last two weeks, and he didn’t really _want_ to talk to the rebel leader, but if Avon-in-his-mind thought it would help, he might as well. Avon always knew how to keep them safe. Vila knocked, and sounded the door chime. “Blake? Are you awake?”

The door opened, and Blake was standing there, fully dressed and wide awake. “Vila? What is it? Are you all right?”

Vila shrugged. “My hallucination wants to talk to you.”

Blake’s look of surprise might have been funny, once upon a time. “Excuse me?”

“On the flight deck.” Vila turned on his heels and headed back, only half-caring that Blake hurried after him. If the hallucination was still there, at least he could tell Avon he’d tried, which was exactly what he did when he came down the steps and found the interference still fizzing through the speakers. “All right, I’ve fetched Blake.”

“Vila, what’s going on?” Blake asked stupidly, trailing him to the sofa.

“Blake?”

Ah. So Avon was still there. Vila smiled at Blake’s face, and settled down to listen. He’d always liked listening to Avon talk with Blake.

Blake spun around, walking to up to the comm unit. “ _Avon_?!”

Wait, that wasn’t right. Blake shouldn’t be hearing Vila’s hallucination, should he?

“ _Finally_! Look, Blake, I have no idea where you got the _insane_ idea that I was dead, or why you thought it would be a good idea to delete my voiceprint from Zen, but I have no time to explain. I paid an exorbitant sum for this ship and the… _previous owner_ failed to mention the fault in the life support system. I don’t have the tools or parts to fix it, and I’m running out of air. With the _Liberator_ , you should be able to come and get me; I’ll send you the coordinates. Oh, and Blake… is Vila still there?”

Vila met Blake’s worried glance over his shoulder. “Yes,” Blake said.

“Vila…” Avon’s voice went soft and a little sad. “I’m _not_ dead, but I am sorry.” With that the connection cut off.

Vila jumped to his feet. “Blake–”

“Yes.” Blake walked over the Orac, slotting the key in place. “Orac, was it Avon?”

“Was _what_ Avon?”

Blake audible gritted his teeth with impatience. “The transmission just now, did it come from Kerr Avon?”

“Of course it did.”  

Blake spun around. “Zen! Set course to the coordinates we just received, _maximum_ speed!”

“Blake?” Vila felt dizzy, his knees suddenly weak. He clung to a station – Avon’s station, how had he ended up _there_? – “Was it real? Was it really… Avon?”

“Yes. Yes, Vila! Yes, it was!” Blake was suddenly grinning. “He _is_ alive!”

 

Vila figured he had fainted from sheer exhaustion then, and had slept through most of the breakneck flight to where they’d meet Avon’s ship. He was glad of it, too – it gave his mind time to get used to the idea that Avon wasn’t dead after all. He was going to see him in just an hour, and he would be _fine_. Vila refused the worry about the failing life support system, worry about the fact that Avon might yet _die_.

When Avon’s ship finally appeared on the scanner, Vila’s heart leapt to his throat. It was _small_ , much smaller than he’d thought, more a shuttle than a ship, really, and old and barely fit for space, and _small_ meant less air…

There had been no voice contact with Avon at all since he’d signed off.

“Can’t risk teleporting over,” Blake said. “We’ll take the ship in our cargo hold – Jenna, make it fast.”

Jenna just nodded.

“Vila, come with me?”

Vila pushed off his station, following Blake down to the hold, his heartbeat rushing in his ears. Blake walked agonisingly slowly – no point in rushing when Jenna was just bringing the ship in – and they arrived at the doors just as Jenna reported her success.

Vila, heart in his throat, pushed past Blake into the hold, finding one of the outer hatches of the decrepit little ship already open, which was a good sign – but no Avon, which wasn’t.

Blake, right by his side, drew his gun. “Careful, Vila.”

Together, they stepped onto the ship, practically ending up right on the small flight deck. It was freezing cold, the frigid air only slowly mixing with the _Liberator_ ’s much warmer atmosphere. Vila became aware of the figure huddled under a silver emergency blanket in the chair at the front to the left, and was by his side in a moment. It was undoubtedly Avon, but oh so motionless, and _they couldn’t be too late, they just couldn’t_.

Vila grasped Avon’s arms, and was rewarded with a jolt and a gasp, Avon’s eyes flying open. Their gazes locked.

“Hello, Vila.”

“You _bastard_!”

Avon smiled. “Well. It’s nice to see you, too.”

“We thought you’d died in that explosion! Where _were_ you?! It’s been two weeks!”

“I _am_ sorry, Vila.” Avon’s gaze went past Vila. “Blake. You seem to have managed not to break my thief irrevocably. Ah – careful, Vila!”

“What’s wrong?”

Avon pushed away the blanket, revealing dirty and torn clothes, a motley collection of scrapes and bruises, and an unprofessionally splinted knee. “You see why I didn’t come out to meet you.”

“What happened, Avon?” Blake asked, looking around the ship.

“All in good time, Blake. I am tired and _this_ –” Avon waved a hand towards his knee. “–rather hurts. Besides,” his gaze returned to Vila’s, and he smiled a small, genuine smile, “I think Vila has a more urgent claim on my time for now, don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically you're getting this today only because I wanted to mention that I am editing a digital _Blake's 7_ fanzine! The current deadline for submissions is the end of July, and all contributions are welcome! Find more details on tumblr, at [rebelsandfools.tumblr.com](https://rebelsandfools.tumblr.com/).


	14. things you said with no space between us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aand back to Season 3. It's not too depressing for once, I hope. ;)
> 
> (Reminder that Rebels and Fools the digital B7 zine is a thing that's happening! Find us on tumblr @rebelsandfools.)

“This is a bit cosy,” Vila remarked with fake cheer, trying to keep a hold on the mounting panic.

Avon’s voice, as always, was dry as a desert: “Really. You astound me, Vila.”

Vila wriggled, trying to find a position that didn’t feel quite as cramped. His fingers found bare skin in the dark, and he jerked back for a moment, then reached out again to explore – Avon, of course – Avon’s face. Vila withdrew his fingers when he encountered the soft skin of Avon’s eyelids, the faint movement of lashes. “Why are your eyes closed?”

“Perhaps so you don’t stick your fingers in them?” Avon hissed. He moved, his elbow suddenly poking painfully into Vila’s stomach. “Damn!”

“What?”

“My teleport bracelet isn’t functional. Must have been that beam.” The beam that had overloaded Avon’s gun and had sent them running. Vila remembered too well. “Something disrupting the electronics. Check yours.”

Vila wrenched his arm free from where it was wedged against Avon’s back and fingered his own bracelet. It seemed to be working just fine, the little frequency indicator a pinprick of light in the dark.

“Well?”

“Mine’s working.”

“At least we can contact the _Liberator_ when it’s back on station.”

Silence fell, and Vila found his own pulse pounding in his ears, breath quickening. “Avon?”

“What?!”

“Can we keep talking?”

“What would you have me say?”

“Anything, just anything! I really don’t like small dark spaces.”

Avon sighed. “Why am I not surprised.”

“Why did we have to pick the one life capsule that had a damaged light control?!”

“Because it was the only one _functional_. Would you rather be caught and tortured?”

“I don’t want to be buried alive!”

“Vila.”

“It’s a real thing, you know. A phobia. It’s called–”

“Vila, snap out of it.”

“–taphophobia, that’s it. Are you sure the life support is working? How much oxygen does this thing carry?”

“Vila!”

Vila gasped as Avon’s boot impacted with his shin. “What did you do that for?!”

“You were panicking. Now if you could let go of my arm, I’d be grateful.”

Vila found his hand clenched painfully around what felt like Avon’s upper arm. He opened his hand, apologetically smoothing out the wrinkled fabric of Avon’s shirt. “Sorry.”

“Your shin will have a matching bruise now,” Avon said, and Vila could _hear_ the grin in his voice.    

He sighed, slipping his arm around Avon’s waist and curling around him, trying to forget that this wasn’t one of their beds on the _Liberator_. “Aren’t we a pair.”

Avon’s hand was on his wrist – examining the bracelet, Vila realised. “The _Liberator_ will be back on station before long. The time was almost up, anyway.”

“You aren’t scared of anything, are you, Avon?”

Avon’s fingers dropped away from Vila’s wrist, but he made no move to shake off the embrace. “Plenty of things. It would be the height of stupidity not to be.”

“Well, what, then?”

“What?”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Not of being buried alive when we are, in fact, still floating in space. At least that ship wasn’t equipped with neutron blasters and the life support of this capsule is functional.”

He hadn’t answered the question, Vila noted. He tightened his embrace briefly, the only comfort he dared offer. But his heart felt lighter. “Should have known.”

“I’m not in the mood for cryptic statements, Vila.”

“Those so called friends of Blake’s. Bounty hunters, the lot of them, weren’t they?”

“Probably. Enough of them, anyway. They probably thought we wouldn’t be as suspicious of an unarmed carrier vessel.”

“We weren’t.”

“No.”

“We’ll find him,” Vila said into the dark and quiet, needing to believe it. The bounty hunters’ message had been the first substantial lead in weeks – and of course it had been a trap.

Avon didn’t reply, his chest rising and falling slowly against Vila’s.

“Avon? Are you going to sleep?”

“How could I while you are constantly talking?”

“Sorry. Just nervous.”

Avon sighed. “Don’t be.”

“Don’t be sorry or don’t be nervous?”

“Vila, don’t give me reason to _make you_ feel sorry.”

“Charmer.”

Silence descended again, and Vila rested his cheek against Avon’s hair. At least he wasn’t alone, and Avon was solid and warm. They’d had too little time for each other lately, with the search for Blake and the youngsters Dayna and Tarrant, who knew nothing of their relationship, and who neither one of them was keen on telling.

“I wish we were back on the _Liberator_ , in one of our cabins. This could be nice if we weren’t stuck in a small dark metal tube floating aimlessly in space,” Vila mused aloud.

Avon shifted a little – not that the life capsule allowed a lot of movement with two grown men inside it – but said nothing.

“Avon, everything all right?”

There was a moment before Avon replied: “Yes. Lost in thought, that’s all. Try the bracelet now.”

Vila reluctantly pulled his arm back, fiddling with the bracelet. “Do you think Tarrant can get the life capsule into the hold?”

“He is an outstanding pilot, or so he tells us often enough. You can always ask to be teleported out first.”

Vila rolled onto his back as far as he could, finding the comm link. “I don’t think I will.”

“What happened to being afraid of small and dark spaces?”

Vila paused, his hand on the button. “’s not so bad while you’re here.”

“Yes…” Avon said, under his breath. “Call Tarrant now, Vila.”


	15. things you said that i wish you hadn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Season 2 again. I indulged my preference for hurt/comfort (and foreshadowing), don't mind me.

“… I can’t.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I can’t _move_ , Vila.”

The finality in Avon’s voice sent a cold shiver down Vila’s spine. “What do you mean, you can’t move? You can talk well enough!” He fumbled with his pencil torch, trying to illuminate the dark corridor. The blackness seemed to be swallowing ever bit of light – something in the air, Blake had said, the reason why the planet was simply called Nox – Night.

It shouldn’t have mattered – they weren’t to go outside, just investigate an abandoned facility. The Federation didn’t abandon facilities for no reason, Vila had told Blake then, but their scans had shown that there might be some useful supplies left – non-perishable food stuff, first aid kits. The sort of thing that didn’t seem valuable at first glance, but without which Blake’s rebellion would have crumbled a long time ago. There was even still power, still light to keep Nox’s Darkness at bay, and so Blake had send Avon and Vila down. The teleport wouldn’t work deep in the base, but they only needed to make their way back to the upper level and they’d pick them back up, no problem, Blake’d said.

Everything had been fine until the roof caved in, and they were plunged into blackness so dense Vila thought he might be able to cut it with a laser.

Vila scrambled to his feet amidst the rubble, wincing as his knee protested – scraped, definitely. Bleeding? No, his hand came away dry.

“Avon?”

The ceiling – what was left of it – creaked menacingly above them. They were only down one level, but without light… Vila swung around, trying to see back the way they had come. Avon had been just behind him, but now all his torch illuminated was dust.

“Avon?!”

Vila only found him by literally stepping on him – suddenly, there was something soft under his boot, and Vila stumbled and bruised his knee for a second time as Avon gave a cry of pain.

There was the sound of movement beside him, and Avon said, sounding incredibly tired: “That was my wrist, Vila.”

“What do you leave it lying around on the ground for?” Vila shot back, relieved he hadn’t dropped his light, little good as it did him. He shuffled, training it in the direction of Avon’s voice, hands outstretched. He found Avon’s elbow first with his hand, pulling another gasp from Avon, then Vila’s light found his face.

Avon was ghastly white, his hair dusty, his gaze unfocussed.

Vila shuffled closer – from what he could make out, Avon had pulled his arm onto his chest after Vila stepped on it. The teleport bracelet, thankfully, was still clasped around it, still intact, but Avon wasn’t making any attempt to move. His chest was rising in too short, too shallow puffs, and he was far too quiet.

“Avon? Come on. It’s just one level up and I have a light. We can come back with bigger torches to get the supplies.”

“Go.”

“What?”

“I _can’t move_ , Vila.” Vila’s name came out barely a breath. “Damn, it hurts.”

Feeling suddenly sick, Vila moved his light down Avon’s body, and found his hip trapped under what might have once been a support beam. Avon’s legs beyond were free, twisted to the side, but the beam held him fast – and who knew what kind of injury the impact had caused.

“Avon…” Vila reached to run his hand over Avon’s brow, to offer some comfort, but Avon twisted his head away sharply.

“I don’t want you here. Just go. And tell Blake to go to hell.”

“But–”

Avon’s eyes flared with sudden anger. “Go! Do you think I want to spend my last moments in _your_ company?!”

Stung, Vila reeled back, his light losing Avon’s face in the blackness. “I’ll fetch help,” he said, coldness clutching his heart, and he rushed off as quickly as he dared towards the stairs to the upper level.

 

They got Avon out alive – barely. There had been internal bleeding, on top of the shattered hip his kidneys had been packing it in from some piece of debris that must have struck him even before the support beam pinned him to the ground. Still, the healing stasis capsules of the _Liberator_ had been able to fix it, as always more effective on big-scale damage than it was on the small injuries. Vila sat with Avon for the entire time he was in the capsule, where Vila didn’t need to talk to anyone, least of all to Avon. He looked… so harmless, in the medical coma, kept under by the drugs swirling around his system. He also looked ill, dark lashes resting unmoving on the even darker shadows below his eyes, even as the initial swelling caused by his failing kidneys was going down. Vila didn’t want to feel sorry for him – after all, Avon couldn’t be feeling much of anything, whereas Vila was sitting there trying to figure out what _he_ was feeling. Vila’d thought that the thing they were building together was worth something – not just to Vila, but to Avon, too. Avon was a realist at best and a cynic at worst, yes, but Vila had allowed himself to think – to assume, to hope – that when it came down to it, they would stick together. That, when one of them was dying, there would be the comfort of having the other around. That they wouldn't be alone. That, if one of them was dying, he’d _want_ the other around. Instead, all of Avon’s walls had been up – or perhaps it wasn’t a wall at all. Perhaps the affection, the shared mirth, the fun they’d been having together had been the real façade. Vila had always dismissed these doubts before. But before, he hadn’t been faced with an Avon who might be dying telling him to get out of his sight.

When Avon showed signs of coming round, Vila made himself scarce. The others could tell something was wrong, but they probably assumed that Vila felt responsible for what had happened, and that that was why he wanted to stay away from Avon. It suited Vila just fine to let them think that – let Avon think it, too. If Avon had meant what he’d said – and how could he not have, if he was _dying_ – Vila didn’t want him to know that he’d hurt him.

It was easy, at first. Avon was still bound to the medical unit. The machines had fixed him, but apparently the pain memory lingered, and he could barely walk the few steps to the bathroom and back. Once, Vila – well, the whole ship, really – heard him losing his temper at Blake, and Avon shouting was downright terrifying, even when you were several corridors away.

Avoiding him got a little more difficult as Avon returned to his regular duties, even if Avon seemed to tire easily as well as be generally subdued. Blake had put him on short shifts, and instead of tinkering with something or other, or just generally spending time on the flight deck, Avon often returned to his cabin, locking himself in. It suited Vila just fine – he couldn’t avoid him when Avon was on the flight deck and Blake wanted all of them there, but if Avon was on the flight deck less than usual otherwise, that reduced the chances of Vila running into him.

Until, that was, Vila rounded a corner and found Avon leaning against the wall further down the corridor, barely keeping upright – his expression was drawn with pain, his hand resting on his hip. As Vila watched, Avon tried to brace himself, pushing off the wall – only to nearly fall, stumbling back against the wall with a frustrated curse. And Vila couldn’t just walk away.

Taking a deep breath, he slid back around the corner, tiptoeing for a few steps, then turned and picked up his pace, stepping more heavily than usual, and rounded the corner at full speed. This time, Avon would have heard him approach, and Vila trailed to a halt when he could see him again. “Oh. Hello, Avon.”

There was a flash of tension in Avon’s shoulders and he dropped his hand away from his hip – clearly attempting to appear all right, but it wouldn’t even have fooled someone who didn’t know his Avons as well as Vila. The look he sent Vila’s way was swimming with helpless pain, and he clearly couldn’t move away.

“Need a hand?” Vila asked, not _trying_ to be cruel, but feeling angry at himself for still feeling… anything for Avon.

Avon let his head fall back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. “No.”

Vila’s anger surged and he shouldered past Avon, not caring that that nearly sent him sprawling. “Suit yourself.”

He didn’t get far.

“Vila.”

Vila stopped, finding his fists clenched. “What?”

“I do need your help.”

“I’ll fetch one of the others.”

“No – Vila…”

“Why did you say it? You thought you were dying and the last thing you wanted to tell me was that you didn’t want me there? What am I supposed to make of that, Avon?”

“There was no time; I needed to get you to fetch help. You wouldn’t have left me if I hadn’t…”

“You have a rational explanation for everything, don’t you. Cold-hearted bastard.”

“Vila… I also knew that, if I said it and did die, you wouldn’t be left… mourning.”

Vila turned around then, and found Avon flinching away from his stare. “I might be a Delta, but I’m not _that_ easy to manipulate.”

Avon looked at him, and suddenly _his_ eyes were flaring with anger. “It wasn’t a lie. You know how I feel about…” His voice sank to a whisper. “Anna. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone – least of all you!”

“So you decided to make breaking my heart the last thing you did?! How would you feel if _Anna_ had done that?”

Avon, for a moment, looked utterly lost, then his gaze drifted back to the ceiling. “I’m… sorry, Vila.”

“Yeh. So am I.”

“You can go and find Blake now.”

“No. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Vila stepped to Avon’s side, slipping an arm around his waist. “Where to?”

Avon gave a pained hiss, allowing Vila to take some of his weight. “My cabin. There’s no more physical damage. I just need… rest.”

Vila nodded. Avon’s cabin wasn’t far – after all, Vila had just come from his own next door. “Bet you love that.”

“Vila…”

“Just shut up, eh?” Out of the corner of his eye, Vila thought he caught a shadow of a smile – and if he found himself echoing it, nobody but Avon needed to know that.


	16. things you said when you were scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like it's been too long since I posted a little something for this - long fic projects are taking up all my writing time atm - so here, have a little thing today.
> 
> S3 again.

“No Blake?” asked Cally when they came up in the teleport.

“No Blake.” Avon tore his bracelet off his wrist almost savagely, threw it into the vague direction of the box they kept them in, and stalked out.

Vila passed his own bracelet to Cally. “Take our shift would you?” he said, then paused. “He’s all right, you know,” he told her – only Avon wasn’t – before hurrying after him.

Avon’s steps echoed loudly in the _Liberator_ ’s corridors, making it fairly easy to follow him even when Vila only ever _just_ glimpsed the edge of Avon’s black jacket disappearing around the corners. He eventually caught up with Avon by cornering him in one of auxiliary computer centrals. Avon just stood by the door, his entire body tense, staring into nothingness.

Vila stepped lightly into the room, leaning against one of the computer banks. “Avon?”

“He’s nowhere, is he?” Avon asked, a terrible hitch in his voice.

Vila wanted to run from that tone. He didn’t need to ask who _he_ was. “He must be _somewhere_.”

Avon exhaled shakily, reaching out to run his fingers over the nearest console without pressing any of the buttons. “A grave, probably.”

“You don’t really think that!”

“Don’t I?”

“You’re still looking.”

Avon shrugged. “Perhaps it’s time we stopped.”

“Avon, Blake is alive.”

Avon rounded on him, his brow drawn in something very like pain. “You can’t know that.”

“I can hope.”

“Hope!” His voice broke around the word, and he looked away.

Vila took a careful step closer. “Avon, how about you get some sleep, eh? Cally’ll take our shift.”

Avon just shook his head.

Vila placed his hand carefully on Avon’s arm, trying to catch the dark gaze, even while he was afraid what he might find there. “Avon?”

“I don’t want to be saddled with Blake’s rebellion, Vila.”

“So let’s find him and give it back to him.”

Avon’s mouth twitched – not a smile, not a grimace either. “It’s always that simple for you, isn’t it?”

“And why shouldn’t it be, eh?”

“Tell me, _how_ do you propose we do it, without spending the rest of our lives chasing rumours?”

Vila’s thumb rubbed little circles on Avon’s arm. “We keep moving, and eventually we’ll run into him, or Orac will find him, or he’ll run into us. The _Liberator_ must be easier to find than one man.”

“What if–”

“ _Blake_ giving up on the rebellion? Never, Avon.”

“Unless he _is_ dead.”

“Avon, we would have heard! Don’t you think Servalan would have shouted it from the rooftops? Blake will find us, or Orac will find him. It’ll be like when you’re looking for something and you can’t find it and as soon as you stop trying so hard it’s right there, you’ll see.”

This time, the corners of Avon’s mouth were curling into a little smile. “Wisdom from the mouth of fools?”

Vila shrugged. “It’s less work that way, and we’ll still be trying.”

“All right.” Barely a whisper.

“Eh? Oh – yes?”

“Yes, Vila.”

“Oh. Good, then. Since we’re just waiting around for Blake to show up, can I get a little cuddle? Cally’s taking our shift.”


	17. things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about this series! Plenty of fics still to go for it. :) Enjoy this one!
> 
> Set right at the start of S3.

Vila felt as though his world might be glowing, the entire universe lit up with incandescent joy. He knew the feeling of elation wouldn’t last, perhaps not even through the night – nothing lasted in a galaxy so long dominated by the Federation, and, his plans to live forever aside, very few things apart from a certain talent for picking locks had ever been permanent in his life. Emotions he expected to last least of all, and the crew of the _Liberator_ already were the closest acquaintances – friends? – he had ever had outside of his family, who’d been gone since far too early in his life. Still, he’d learned to enjoy things while he could, and right now, he felt like floating, as though the cabin was actually lit up by a homely fire and merry fairy lights at once instead of the dull glow of the _Liberator_ ’s light fixtures, as though there were soft velvet seats and gentle music instead of the distant hum of the engines and the practical, but hardly comfy reclining chairs.

“Vila.”

Vila hummed a pleased hum around a swallow of his drink.

“You’re dreaming.”

“Just enjoying the moment.”

Avon smiled, and Vila marvelled at the ease of the expression. “I see.”

“When we pick up Blake, what then?”

“Leave him and the rest with whatever remains of the rebellion on Earth – with the Federation’s military in ruins, it should be easy enough for them to gain control, especially with Blake there to fuel their… enthusiasm.” Avon’s thumb brushed slow circles over their entwined fingers. “Then, the _Liberator_ is ours to do as we please.”

Vila set his empty glass down on the shelf by the head of Avon’s bed and ran his fingers gently through Avon’s hair instead. His muscles perfectly relaxed, Avon seemed happy enough to leave his head where it rested against Vila’s thigh and let him do it. “Freedom at last”, Vila mused, “that’ll take time to get used to.”

“Hmm. I imagine much of our time will be occupied with the search for your fountain of youth.”

“Now that the Federation is as good as gone, it doesn’t seem all that difficult. We cracked _that_ , what is a little eternal life by comparison?”

Avon chuckled, the sound rippling through his body and Vila’s. “There might be a few other things on our agenda, still.”

“Do you think one of the others wants to stay? One of the new people?”

“Oh, no. Danya and Tarrant are drawn to combat. They’ll trail after Blake like flies. Cally might want dropping off on Auron, but that we can easily arrange. What I was thinking of is of slightly more personal nature.”

Vila stilled his idle petting at Avon’s expression. “I know that face. I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“There are two people I need to… take care of. Though from what I’ve seen of Dayna, I can leave Servalan to her.”

“Just one, then? I think I could live with that.”

Avon shifted slightly, stretching out his right leg. “I assure you, it won’t weigh heavily on your conscious once it’s done.”

“As long as it’s quick.”

Avon’s smirk, for a moment, grew dark and dangerous. “I can’t guarantee that, but it shouldn’t cost _us_ more than a few days.”

“I’ll be able to find that Fountain of Youth in the meantime.”

Avon squeezed his hand. “Yes.”

“Mind you, we need to decide what to do with all that time.” Vila resumed his petting, occasionally trailing down to brush a finger against Avon’s cheek and feel him lean into the touch. “Playing chess might get boring after a while, eh?”

“With the whole galaxy within easy reach? I don’t think we’ll have occasion to be bored.”

“Hm.” Vila tapped Avon on the shoulder to make him shift and stretched out beside him. He waited until Avon had settled down again on Vila’s chest and he could feel both their heartbeats before he spoke again. “You know what we should do?”

Avon smiled, that little smile that was half indulgence, half fondness. “What should we do, Vila?”

“Dump out one of those fabric grates in the hold in an empty cabin and make a nest, or a large bed. Or just a room that looks soft and pretty, not like the usual décor around here. Perhaps we could get Zen to heat the floor a little for warmth?”

There was a pleased – and slightly sleepy – hum from Avon. “Somewhere with a view comes to mind.”

“Can we put up new walls?”

“I don’t see why not, as long as we don’t touch anything essential to the _Liberator_ ’s structural integrity, and Zen would stop us if it endangered the ship.”

Surprised by an amusing thought, Vila laughed, and answered Avon’s quizzically raised eyebrow: “You know, when I was a child I used to imagine what it would be like, getting a house of my own. A proper house, not just a poky little flat, one with space around it and no one but me and mine living there. I’d worry about which curtains I’d pick. If you’d told me then I’d have a sentient spaceship to settle down in, I’d have thought you’d left your brains at the bottom of a bottle somewhere.”

Avon didn’t reply, his breathing soft and even.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“Unlike you”, Avon said, but his quiet voice was more amused than irritated, “I haven’t slept in over a day, and that only because Tarrant knocked me out.”

“I’d hardly call paralysing sedation sleep!”

“Well, then maybe you should follow my example and shut up.”

Vila was silent for a while, letting Avon’s warmth soak into him through his hand resting on the other man’s back, and relishing the calm after the adrenalin-fuelled day he’d had.

“Avon?”

“Yes?”

“To Freedom.”

Avon shifted slightly, just to catch his gaze. “To Freedom.”


	18. things you said when we were on top of the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been too long since I posted anything, so have another one of these! Set right after _Gambit_ , it's a particularly nice one, I think. Enjoy! :)

“Well?” Avon asked, his eyes sparkling.

“It’s a lot of money, isn’t it?”

“Five million each? I’d say it is.” Avon toppled over one of the stacks of credit chips Vila had constructed on the table with the tip of his fingers, watching as they fell with a comforting clatter.

Vila swiped them off the table back into the box of his share. “Where do we keep it? Not on the _Liberator_.”

“No.” Avon leant back, idly toying with one of his own credit chips – one hundred credits, just there between Avon’s nimble fingers. Vila watched it catch the low light of Avon’s cabin, momentarily distracted, until Avon stopped the twirling chip between his index finger and thumb. “Numbered accounts, I should think.”

“A bank account?”

“Not _simply_ a bank account, you dummy.”

“You keep calling me that.”

Avon smirked. “Well. I can’t expect a Delta thief to know his way around the Federation banking system. Numbered accounts, Vila, are untraceable. The money will be safe, and we will be able to access it without disclosing our identity. I don’t imagine you ever had a bank account, and my previous assets were frozen when I was arrested, but find a neutral planet with a currency accepted in the known worlds...”

“I want to go shopping first.”

Avon laughed – actually laughed. Vila stared at him, wondering if he’d ever heard Avon genuinely laugh before. “You would.”

“What good is the money if I don’t get to spend it?”

“Numbered accounts have exceptionally good interest rates, Vila.”

Vila shrugged. “So what? There’ll still be four million left for that.”

“You want to spend one million credits? On what?”

“Oh, I have a few things in mind.” Vila started counting off one million, arranging it in neat stacks on Avon’s table next to his glass of adrenalin and soma. “Aren’t you going to spend _anything_?”

Avon didn’t answer for a long time, and Vila glanced up, finding him looking at the stacks of money with a suddenly pensive expression, his eyes shadowed under his lashes in the dim light.

“Avon?”

Avon almost jerked out of his contemplation, flicking his eyes up to Vila’s face. “A few things, perhaps. So long as _you_ don’t waste this money on anything Blake’s rebellion ought to be funding. I saw you looking at those diamond-tipped probes on Lindor.”

“Stealing them would’ve been faster,” Vila said.

“No doubt.” Avon abandoned the credit chip he’d been toying with, flicking it onto the table. “Be sure you can enjoy whatever you buy.”

“What do you mean?”

Avon’s eyes, when he looked up, were dark and serious. “Surely even you have noticed by now that we live dangerous lives. Who knows who Blake will get killed next.”

“Says the man who wants to bank _all_ the money.”

The corners of Avon’s mouth twitched, something between a smile and a grimace. “It’s not enough.”

“Enough? Enough for what, Avon? It’s more money than either of us has ever had. I could have been fried to a crisp on that chair for it! Did you even think of that?!”

“You’re free to do with your share whatever you like, Vila.”

“Oh, yeh? Feeling generous, are we?”

“Not particularly.” Avon picked up his own drink, taking a swallow, and swung his legs up onto the edge of his bed. “But since you did half the work, you might as well squander half the spoils. It makes no difference to me.”

“That’s nice.”

“I think it is,” Avon remarked, unconcerned. “Do you want me to cheat you out of your share? A wager, maybe? A game of chess?”

“I’ve had enough of chess for a while.” Vila carefully put his spending money into a little satchel he’d brought with him.

“Yes, I did think you might. Ah well.” Avon raised his glass in Vila’s direction, smiling again. “To successful future collaborations?”

Vila mirrored his smile, scrambling for his glass. “I’ll drink to that!”


	19. things you said after it was over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like ages since I posted anything, so have a new little one of these. Not taking the prompt in the most obvious way, but you know me - that doesn't necessarily mean it's happy. ;) Enjoy!
> 
> Set just after "Rumours".

“Go away.”

“You’ll have bruises you can’t reach on your own. I should know.” Vila tightened his hold on the dermal regenerator, staring at the closed door. He could open it, of course, but that wouldn’t have been right. Avon needed to let him in – or… “Do you want me to get Cally?”

“No! Not Cally.”

“She won’t tell you ‘I told you so’, you know, not right now. Cally isn’t like that.”

“I know.” There was a dull, heavy sound, as if Avon had slumped against the door. Knowing him as Vila did, he might have, too.

“Nor am I.”

“Please, Vila. Please just let me be.”

Vila’s heart ached at the sound of Avon’s voice. Broken up by the door it might be, but he was sure he had never heard it sound like that. Not even back when Blake was still with them and they had just met _her_ brother.

“All right. I’ll leave some medical supplies before the door for you.”

“Vila…”

“Just check for internal bleeding. Wouldn’t want to have wasted a perfectly good drink on you.”

There was no reply, and Vila could hear his own voice echoing in the silence. _Corpse reviver?_ Vila bent to set the medical kit down next to the door. There was one of the chocolate pralines in the shape of diamonds Cally had got Vila for his last birthday sitting on top. Vila had been saving it, but Avon needed it more. Besides, somehow Vila didn’t think Avon’d appreciate the synthetic flowers Vila would usually leave for him just now.

“I’ll tell the others to stay off your back.”

“Vila!” Avon called out suddenly, just as Vila made to move away.

“Still here.”

“Be next door?”

Next door, of course, was Vila’s own cabin, mirrored in layout, the wall between them separating their beds.

“Course I will be. I’ve done enough work for a few days, and I’m not going anywhere, Avon.”

Avon didn’t reply, but Vila was sure he’d heard him, and understood the message.   


	20. things you said as you were dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was comparing the word count on this AO3 story to the word count of the actual document in which I gather these short things and realised that I'm probably good to post another one. ;) 
> 
> This one is... a little different (by which I don't _only_ mean that I've taken the prompt somewhat loosely). S4.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Vila clutched the gun in shaking hands, bringing up his left to stabilise his right. He was afraid of swerving it from target even a fraction, afraid of dropping it altogether. Deadly afraid of firing it.

“Avon,” he gasped, something between a plea for help and a sob.

There would be no help.

Avon lifted his hands up slowly, showing Vila his empty palms. He’d made a mistake, leaving his weapon lying around like that. Vila had it, now.

“Step away.”

Avon took a deliberate step sideways, dark eyes never breaking Vila’s gaze. It was dangerous, that gaze – drawing Vila in, distracting, engaging, charismatic. Vila pressed his lips together.

Avon lifted an eyebrow ever so slightly. “Ah, Vila.”

“Why?!”

“Why not?”

Avon’s eyes flitted away for a moment, towards the Federation-issue communications relay.

Vila didn’t glance the same way. He wasn’t as much of a fool as all that, even if he’d been a fool in everything else. “How much did she offer you?”

Avon’s gaze returned to Vila’s. “It was nothing personal, Vila.”

“How much?”

Avon shrugged, never lowering his hands. “Safety. A way to vanish.”

“And you believed her? Believed _Servalan_?!”

Avon smiled, an ugly and dangerous grin. “Oh yes. I believe her.”

“You never did before!”

“Before, she didn’t offer me _this_. She offered me power by her side. I would never have been safe there.”

“What changed?”

“I came to a conclusion. So did she.”

“That’s stupid!”

“Why do you need an explanation, Vila?”

“You sold us out to Servalan!” The gun wavered, but remained unfailingly pointed to Avon’s head.

“As I said, it was nothing personal. I wanted it to end, and she was the only person in the universe who could guarantee that it would.” Avon shrugged, almost smiling. “It will end now, at any rate.”

 “That doesn’t make sense, Avon!”

Avon’s eyes gleamed. “Do you really want to know what she promised me, Vila? She promised me that it would end once my heart stopped beating. She promised me that _that_ would be the end of it. No resurrections, no life support, no preservation of consciousness, no clones, no state funerals, no propaganda. Just… the end.”

“No.” _Cold_ couldn’t begin to describe the feeling that settled deep in Vila’s chest.

The gun shook.

Avon dropped his hands with a half-smile. “You’re too late at any rate. The pursuit ships will be here long before Tarrant can get Scorpio off the ground.”

Vila pulled the trigger.

— and jerked awake in bed, drenched in cold sweat. Avon, his arm thrown carelessly over Vila’s middle, mumbled a sleepy protest. Vila stared at the dark head of hair sharing his pillow, afraid to reach out and find that _this_ was the dream, _this_ the illusion, and the signs of life nothing but a hallucination.

After a moment, Avon blinked open his eyes, scowling up at Vila. “What is it now?”

Vila settled back down, trying to warm himself on the heat of Avon’s body. “A nightmare, is all.”

“Hm.” Avon didn’t object to the embrace, sticking his nose into Vila’s neck with a small smile. “Fool.”

Vila tightened his grip on Avon’s shoulder. “I hope, anyway.”


	21. things you said as we drifted in our space suits wondering if we would be rescued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're reaching 'expanded prompt list'-territory (though I skipped the odd one). When I was first writing these, I asked on tumblr for additional ideas - this one is from [Bruinhilda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bruinhilda/pseuds/Bruinhilda). I took some liberties - but there are still space suits!

“What’s this say?”

Avon glanced over from where he was selecting the tools. “Ah, it’ll need to be recharged soon.”

“Recharged?”

“The oxygen tank.”

“It’s running out of oxygen?!”

“Relax. There is plenty left for the repair work. It shouldn’t take us more than twenty minutes.”

“But what if it takes us longer?”

“It won’t.”

“But what if it does?!”

Avon shot him an irritated look. “Give that one to me, then.”

Vila breathed a sigh of relief and swapped out the space suits. “That’s all right then, if you’re so sure.”

“Check your tools,” Avon said simply, pulling on the suit.

 

Vila wasn’t thrilled to go walking around _outside_ of the _Liberator_ , even with magnetised boots clinging to the hull and Avon for company. He disliked the spacesuits, the falling oxygen indicator made him jittery even where he knew that the tank would last far longer than it would take them to make the repairs. Not that Zen couldn’t have done it, but manual repairs were faster, and Avon had wanted to have a personal look at the circuitry, too. And so, here they were. At least Vila’s nerves had him opening the access panel in record time, even if he said so himself.

Avon wasn’t in a chatty mood, only speaking up to ask for the one of the tools clipped to Vila’s belt, gritting his teeth against the clumsy gloves and the slowness that came with the lack of atmosphere. It hadn’t slowed Vila down, but he wasn’t about to tell Avon that. Still, the work didn’t take long at all.

Vila was just done closing up the hatch when there was a sudden surge of feedback in the comm channel of their suits.

Vila looked at Avon in alarm, finding the same surprise written on Avon’s face. “Avon?!”

“I can hear you, Vila, don’t shout.” Avon fiddled with the frequency adjuster, and Vila followed suit – opening the link to the flight deck. “Blake, what the hell is going on?”

Silence.

“Wonderful,” Vila said.

Avon scowled. “Let’s get back.”

Only the airlock wouldn’t open.

Avon frowned at it, then moved to the side to let Vila have a go – only the lock wasn’t the problem.

“Well?”

“It won’t open.”

“Don’t you always tell us you can open anything?”

“Anything that has a lock and a functioning door mechanism. This door is broken, Avon!”

Avon was quiet for a long moment, his gaze directed out across the _Liberator_ ’s hull. “No way to fix it from out here. We’ll try the next one. They can’t all be malfunctioning.”

The hull, from this position, looked singularly featureless to Vila. “Do you know where the next one is?”

“Roughly. Come on.”

Avon set a steady, careful pace, winding their way around odd structures on the hull. Vila had no idea what they were there for, and could probably have asked Avon, but he’d rather use his breath to try calling the flight deck – not that anyone ever answered.

“What happened to them, do you think?”

“Probably only a technical fault of some sort,” Avon replied, sounding winded. “Damn!”

“What is it?”

“See for yourself.”

Vila stepped to his side, and found himself staring at a mess of melted alloy. “That used to be an airlock?”

“Yes.”

“Why hasn’t Zen fixed it?”

“I don’t know. This is a section of the _Liberator_ we have never used; it’s possible that there is larger sensory damage around this section – Zen probably hasn’t detected the fault.”

“What now? Back to the other one?”

“No. The door circuit must have fried.” Avon paused, glancing at the indicators on his wrist. “There is a one-person maintenance airlock one level up. I was considering using it earlier, but taking the suits down a maintenance shaft seemed unnecessarily complicated. At any rate, it was fully functional.”

“Let’s go, then.”

“Wait. How’s your oxygen, Vila?”

Vila glanced at the indicator, not liking the reminder that he was breathing borrowed air, but found it reassuringly in the green. “All fine.”

“Good.” Avon stepped past him, taking the lead again.

 

The walk across the hull was, in fact, singularly boring. Vila didn’t dare look up – down? – at the planet they were orbiting, and the hull wasn’t particularly interesting, nor was Avon’s back. But there was still no reply from the flight deck, and it wouldn’t have done them any good, anyway, since they needed to find a functioning airlock first. The sudden change of pressure if they used teleport would kill them as surely as the vacuum.

At the airlock, Avon tethered himself to a handhold – as they had done going out before magnetising their boots – and turned off the magnetics to take a better look. “Working.”

Vila followed his example, feeling a strange lurch in his stomach at the loss of gravity, and quickly taking hold of the handrail. “What are we waiting for, then? You’re not leaving me out here on my own, are you? I can go in first?”

Avon pressed his lips to a thin line, and pushed some of the control buttons – the airlock was depressurising, preparing to admit – well, one of them, at a time.

“Looks a bit like a coffin, doesn’t it?”

There was a small bullseye, and the airlock beyond _was_ tiny. Just large enough for a person in a spacesuit to fit.

Avon didn’t respond, just reached to hold onto the handrail – which was when Vila spotted _his_ oxygen indicator, and the memory of the half-empty oxygen supply tank came back to him with ice-cold realisation. It was well into the red, eating into the secondary supply with every moment – and after that…

“Avon!”

Avon glanced up, and shook his head as well as he was able inside the helmet.

“You need to go in first! There’s no more air!”

“I know that!” Avon snapped, then, very lowly, went on: “The airlock is slow. If I fall unconscious before it cycles, you won’t be able to get in after me.”

“I’ll find another one. I’ve got plenty of oxygen left to search. No, don’t argue. If you don’t go in first, you’ll die.”

“Vila…”

The airlock finished depressurising in that moment, the door sliding open. Vila floated over to the controls, knowing that pushing Avon would only move himself away. “In you go!”

Avon tightened his hold on the handrail and hooked the tether line inside the small airlock, navigating inside without further protest. Now that he concentrated on it, Vila could hear his breathing. It held an unmistakably panicked edge, even if Avon seemed to be trying to keep it steady. Vila forced himself not to hold his own breath, not to worry about being alone outside the ship in a spacesuit, not to worry about the fact that it might still be too long and he could watch Avon die right in front of him. They should never have stayed outside after Avon had switched to the emergency tank, but they hadn’t planned it, had they?

Vila kept close watch, making sure that Avon activated the pressurising sequence once the door had closed, but moments seemed to tick by with agonising slowness. Avon had closed his eyes as far as Vila could see, his breathing loud in the communication channel.

Then, finally, the indicator light on the airlock switched over, and the inner door opened.

“Avon!”

Vila couldn’t see much beyond it, but Avon moved out of the airlock and vanished from view. The inner door closed, and the airlock recycled.

“Avon?”

There wasn’t any reply, and Vila’s heart stuttered. Of course Avon should have taken the helmet off, if all had gone well…

“Everything will be fine, Vila. Just you wait and see.” Vila shifted into position, finding little comfort in the sound of his own breathless voice – just breathless, his oxygen was fine, he even had a whole full tank of emergency supply... He shouldn’t have switched out the suits, or should have insisted they find a new one, or if he’d been the one wearing it he might have been scared enough to get the first airlock open…

The maintenance airlock felt like a coffin, too, and Vila tried his hardest not to think about how he might find a corpse beyond it as it pressurised around him – and then the inner door was open and Vila stumbled through, almost falling over in his haste to get out of the helmet.

“Avon?!”

“Right here,” Avon’s voice came softly from the right, where Vila found him sitting on the edge of the maintenance shaft leading down to the cramped area before the airlock. He’d taken off the helmet and the gloves, but it seemed he’d run out of energy then. Hair plastered to his head, he was ash-white, hands shaking.

“Are you all right?”

Avon’s lips quirked. “ _Breathing_ is all I’ll admit to.”

Vila allowed himself a small smile of relief, and began struggling out of his own suit. “Anything from the flight deck?”

Avon shook his head, and wearily climbed to his feet to pull off the remainder of the spacesuit, leaving only the dark cotton undergarments they both wore for the spacewalk. “There is no comm relay down here. We’ll have to climb up to the main level first.”

“What about the suits?”

“Are you volunteering to drag them back up?”

“No. I’ve had enough of them.”

“Leave them. We can pick them up eventually.”

Avon turned away and pushed himself up into the access tunnel. Vila followed as soon as there was space, and they began a slow – torturous, really – ascend. The tunnel itself would have been claustrophobic enough, even though Vila had ample of practice slinking around airshafts and crawlspaces. His muscles ached from working in the stiff spacesuit, and the view wasn’t particularly thrilling, either, with Avon setting a slow if steady pace before him.

Just as Vila was about to complain, Avon slowed to a stop, twisted, and pulled himself out of the tunnel, brushing non-existent dust particles from his trousers with a grimace. Vila climbed out of the hatch with less elegance, almost falling on his face, and glared at the non-descript corridor. “Where are we now?”

“It’s not far,” Avon said, still breathing heavily.

Concerned, Vila turned to him, but Avon shot him a glare that froze the words in his throat and turned to the communication grid set into the wall. “Flight deck?!”

“Avon!” Blake sounded relieved. “Where are you?”

“Back on board, no thanks to you,” Vila grumbled, despite himself. He liked Blake, but didn’t take kindly to nearly dying in outer space. Not that they weren’t still in outer space, but he felt much safer with the _Liberator_ all around him instead of a flimsy space suit with a tank of oxygen that could run out.

“We’re all right,” Avon said. “What the hell happened?”

“A solar flare, according to Orac – it overcharged the energy banks and fried a few circuits. The autorepair is working, but we haven’t been able to make contact, and your airlock wasn’t functional when I sent Cally down.”

“We noticed,” Avon responded dryly.

“I’m relieved you are both fine, at any rate. Are you headed towards the flight deck?”

Avon glanced back at Vila and smiled when Vila rolled his eyes. “On our way.”


	22. things you said in front of other people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the slight angst, have some silliness. Set in S3, not long after _Rumours_.
> 
> Also a quick note that there is slightly more heated kissing in this than in the previous stories in this series, but no more.

“I haven’t been impressed with your contacts so far, Tarrant,” Avon said, barely even looking up from his newest gadget. Vila already counted it as a win that Avon was tinkering on the flight deck, instead of hiding in his cabin whenever his presence wasn’t essential.

“Your _old friends_ haven’t been particularly superb either,” Tarrant shot back, and Vila held his breath. Avon’s hands stilled on the probe he was holding, his shoulders stiffening ever so slightly. Damn Tarrant for being so insensitive to the barely concealed hurt that he had to pour salt into a wound that had only just started to heal! Avon inhaled deeply, flicking his eyes to Vila’s for a second, and set down the probe, turning to Tarrant.

“All right. What do these people have that you think we need?”

Tarrant passed him a reader. “There are large amounts of ore on the planet, with a decent mineral grade. It wasn’t enough for the Federation to bother with them, but the population, while old-fashioned, is happy to trade with all comers.”

“Trade? Against what?” Vila asked, concerned.

“According to my contact, they value cultural exchange more highly than any precious metals. So when I mentioned your magic tricks...”

“Me? Oh no, not again.”

“And naturally they expect Vila to go down alone and unarmed?” Avon asked, passing the reader back with a sneer.

Tarrant had the decency to shift nervously. “Not at all. In fact, they asked us all to come down, and we are free to bring our weapons for our own protection. They abide by the old codes of neutrality.”

“And we all know how much those are worth,” Avon said, but the irony was lost to Tarrant. “Very well. Vila and I will go down.”

“Why are you coming?” Vila asked, before Tarrant could.

“Would you rather go with Tarrant?” Avon smiled a smile that wasn’t friendly, and headed towards the flight deck exit. “Get ready. We can be there in just an hour.”

“An hour? But I need to put together a programme!”

“Don’t worry, Vila,” Tarrant said, “I’m sure your naturally sparkling wit and energy will dazzle them.”

“Oh, thanks a lot, Tarrant.”

 

An hour wasn’t a long time at all, but Vila had long ago learned to dress quickly. Finding Cally took longer.

“Look, Cally, I need an assistant for my tricks, that’s all. Someone to fall back to if the audience isn’t fired up yet. Please?”

Cally calmly poured herself a drink. “I thought Avon was going down with you?”

“I can’t ask Avon!”

Of course Avon chose that moment to walk in. “Ask me what?”

“Never mind.”

Cally grinned. “Vila was just telling me he needed an assistant for his magic tricks.”

“Well, he will have to do without. Are you ready, Vila?”

“Yeah.”

On the way to the teleport bay, Vila summoned up his courage. “Say, Avon…”

“I’m not going to play your assistant.” Avon softened the harshness of his words with a small smile. “Besides, I’m going down to ensure Tarrant’s contacts don’t get us killed and keep their end of the bargain. I can hardly do that while engaged in one of your tricks, can I?”

 

All told, their arrival was unspectacular. They were greeted friendly enough by a man and a woman wearing the typical dark-violet hair decorations of the inhabitants – Tarrant’s contacts. After they had assured Avon that the terms of agreement still stood, they gave Vila and him a violet flower each and led them to the little tent where Vila was to give his performance. They were left alone to prepare.

Vila tucked his flower gleefully behind his ear and surveyed the stage. The seats were clustered into little groups with plenty of space to walk between them, which was perfect for his purposes. Avon, he knew, would be making a tactical assessment, but eventually Vila managed to convince him to settle down and watch his final rehearsal. He was three or four tricks in when their contacts returned and Vila tossed the credit he had just palmed back to Avon.

“Is it time yet?”

But the two looked… uneasy. Avon had seen it too and came to his feet, hand resting lightly on his weapon. “Is anything the matter?”

“Avon, Vila, forgive the intrusion,” the man began, and the woman went on: “Our elders have expressed concern that neither of you are accompanied by a partner of a different gender.”

Avon and Vila exchanged a glance. “Is that an issue?” Avon asked with patience that was as fake as his smile.

“Well, it is simply unheard of!”

“In our culture, men never go out without being accompanied by a member of a different gender. Tarrant assured us you had members of another gender on board?”

“We do, but – ”

Avon snapped his hand up, and Vila fell silent. “Tarrant failed to inform us of this requirement. There are no exceptions for foreigners, I presume?”

“No, I am sorry – unless…”

“Yes?”

“Well, the only instance where men go about unaccompanied is if they are pair-bonded, to each other.”

Vila shot Avon a glance and, to his surprise, found him smiling. He held up his hand to Vila. “Ah, well that settles it, then. Vila and I have been pair-bonded for over a year now.”

Vila hastily took the offered hand, too stunned to comment. Neither of them had had any intention of revealing their relationship to Tarrant and Dayna, at least not in so many words, and those were the people they lived with on a daily basis. Avon revealing their relationship, even if they weren’t technically pair-bonded, to complete strangers was unheard of. It wasn’t that Vila _minded_ – they were better off with no one able to pass that particular information on to the Federation, but when it came down to it, it also meant that they rarely got to _say_ it.

But Avon wrapped his fingers firmly around Vila’s hand and squeezed, and their contacts looked happily relieved and left them to it.

Vila got through the performance in a strange daze, trying his hardest not to look at Avon all through it. Soaked up the applause, intend on not giving in to the illusion that every clap sounded like _pair-bond_. Desperately not thinking of Avon’s eyes on him, and not even dreaming that this might _mean_ something, or fearing that it might change something between them.

He let Avon handle the acceptance of the goods, chatted absently with some lingering audience members. Then he caught Avon’s gaze and walked over, as if he were a marionette and Avon was pulling the strings. Vila had never liked marionettes. It was all right when they represented animals or hairy aliens or monsters, like the ones his great-uncle used to make to entertain the children – but the ones that looked like humans had always terrified Vila.

Avon was smiling, looking almost relaxed. “All set, Vila?”

Vila nodded at the box under Avon’s arm. “Got what we came here for, did we?”

“Yes. For once Tarrant seems to have been right. Are you ready to leave or do you plan to linger amongst your admirers for a while longer?”

“No. If we can leave, let’s leave.”

Avon raised his eyebrows, but nodded. “All right,” he said, softly, and brought up his bracelet. “ _Liberator_. Bring us up.”

 

Cally was manning the teleport, with Tarrant standing by the side. “Well?” He had the audacity to look gleeful, eyes fixed on the box Avon was carrying.

Avon’s relaxed expression had vanished, and he shot the young pilot a glare. “Once again you failed to do your research properly. Old-fashioned, indeed. You can be grateful it didn’t end in a catastrophe – this time.” He thrust the box at Tarrant. “Here. Get Zen to analyse these. I am going to get something to eat. Vila?”

Vila snapped himself out of his daze. “Coming!”

It wasn’t far from the teleport unit to the kitchen, but they never got there – as soon as they had rounded the corner, Avon took Vila by the arm and pulled him into a maintenance alcove sheltered from view from the main corridor – a dead end that opened to the crawlspaces under _Liberator_ ’s decks in floor and ceiling – crowded him against the wall and, uncharacteristically giving him only a fraction of a second to pull back, pressed an eager kiss against Vila’s lips.

Vila, too surprised and overwhelmed with a sudden warm rush of feeling to do anything else, kissed back, pushing against Avon until _his_ shoulders hit the wall and they both gasped for breath.

Avon’s eyes were shining with mirth. “Sorry to make you wait, Vila.” He was running his hand up and down Vila’s arm, oh so gently.

Vila tried not to cling to him. “You meant it, then?”

Avon leant in, nipping at Vila’s earlobe. “Meant what?” he asked, his words a hot puff of air straight into Vila’s ear that made him shiver.

“That we’re pair-bonded.”

“I should ask you to do magic tricks more often,” Avon mumbled, almost to himself, lips moving against the sensitive skin under Vila’s ear.

Vila squirmed, drawing back a little. “Avon!”

“What?”

“Answer the question.”

Avon looked puzzled for a moment. “Oh, the pair-bond. Well, it might have been a lie, but it got us what we wanted.”

Vila suddenly felt cold. He put his hands against Avon’s chest and pushed him back against the wall again. “A lie?”

Avon looked still relaxed, still smiling slightly. “I think I would have remembered the ceremony, considering the importance of my presence – don’t you?”

The cold receded slightly and Vila held Avon’s gaze. “Wasn’t talking about the ceremony. Never wanted a ceremony, either. Not like Deltas can afford them, really; it’s just getting the bond entered into the files…”

Avon frowned slightly. “We can’t do that, Vila.”

“I _know_ that!” Vila pushed against his chest. “Come on, Avon, you’re not usually this slow!”

With frustration, Vila saw a grin breaking out on Avon’s face, and he shoved him again. “Bastard!”

Avon caught his hands in his own against his chest, warming them. “I’m sorry, Vila,” he said sincerely, “I didn’t think a pair-bond would be important to you.”

“It’s not, not the name or the ceremony. Just you never say it, not in public, not in front of other people.”

“Vila…”

“No, I know _why_ , just… _Did_ you mean it? Is that how you think of me – us?”

Avon tilted his head. “Are you complaining?” he drawled, a teasing note in his voice.

“No.” Vila beamed at him. “Just making sure I haven’t misunderstood something.”

“Hm,” Avon said, sounding pleased. The skin around his eyes crinkled with a smile.

Vila gave in to the impulse and kissed the laughter lines, his hands warm and safe in Avon’s.


End file.
